Traveling UK & Europe – Lateral Movementshttp://lateralmovements.com
Working my way around the world since 2003Wed, 21 Feb 2018 01:26:51 +0000en-UShourly1https://wordpress.org/?v=4.9.4http://lateralmovements.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/cropped-Lateral-Movements-32x32.pngTraveling UK & Europe – Lateral Movementshttp://lateralmovements.com
323226353773Craft Beer Walk with Ljubljanajamhttp://lateralmovements.com/craft-beer-walk-with-ljubljanajam/
http://lateralmovements.com/craft-beer-walk-with-ljubljanajam/#commentsTue, 15 Dec 2015 08:41:20 +0000http://www.lateralmovements.com/?p=5554When I was a freshman in college, I refused beer whenever it was offered at a party. “I don’t drink beer,” I said. The older students laughed.

“You will,” they said. “You will.”

And they were right; more so than they would have imagined, because I’ve evolved into sort of a beer snob. In Australia my beers of choice were once Toohey’s Extra Dry and Kilkenny; now I’m disappointed if a pub doesn’t at least have Murray’s, a local brewery, on tap.

I know. Snob.

Beer wasn’t on my mind in Slovenia, but then I learned that Ljubljana has a cracking craft beer scene so we signed up for an afternoon craft beer walk with ‘Ljubljana Foodie’s Hub’ Ljubljanajam. The tour cost 35 euro and ran for 2-3 hours; snacks and beer samples were, of course, part of the deal.

We got excited and staged a successful mini-tour the night before at Petkovsek.

Before the tour we were asked for our beer preferences, which would help them to organize the tour. The group was small – Jared, me, and one other traveller. Our guide Alenka met us at the tourist information building next to the three bridges and we were away to Sir William’s Pub.

We were among the first in Ljubljana to try the Iggy IPA by Tektonik, as it had just been released several days prior. This was followed by the Mali Grad Hefeweizen and the Reservoir Dogs Grim Reaper, alongside a charcuterie plate.

Although I’m a self-proclaimed beer snob, I usually do like *most* craft beers so I was happy with all of these. It is worth noting that these were beer tastings, and we didn’t down three beers each at the first pub – more like half a glass each for each beer, as pictured.

Now that is a label.

Alenka pointed out historical points of interest in Ljubljana, bringing new meaning to a few places we’d passed by several times already. In medieval times, most residents of Ljubljana were illiterate, which was reflected in the street signs. Instead of a sign saying ‘Locksmith Street,’ this one had an etching of a key at its entrance.

Streets were named logically to cut down on confusion: Butcher Street, Shoemaker Street, etc. Google Maps go home; we don’t need you in medieval Ljubljana.

The modern Locksmith Street has been transformed into an art installation. A water fountain sits at one end, and a drain runs all the way to the other. If you look closely at the drain, you’ll see Slovenian sculptor Jakov Brdar’s “Faces” – 700 bronze castings of faces scattered throughout. It is creepy but fascinating.

The top of Locksmith Street – wish I’d taken a closeup of the faces but you’ll have to imagine.

…and the bottom of the street.

We continued towards our next destination, and in doing so passed the town hall. It was surrounded by people in fancy clothes and some sort of sentry playing a commanding call to attention on his horn.

“Probably a visiting president from one of the other European countries,” said Alenka.

NBD JUST A PRESIDENT.

“By the way,” she said, “that woman who just walked past is the former mayor.”

The encounter with dignitaries illustrated part of what makes Ljubljana so likeable – its accessibility and lack of pretension.

Also likeable – dragons hidden in plain sight.

The beer walk also incorporated stops at a specialty liqueur shop and a craft beer shop with an extensive selection of local and imported beers; eventually we stopped at a small riverside cafe for our last beer tasting. Oddly, I recognized it because I’d chosen it at random earlier that day when I needed a coffee fix.

Here we tried the Human Fish pale ale (bonus points for the excellent name) and the Vizir Black Jack. Again, there was food that went perfectly with beer: deli meats, grilled bread, mini pickles, and cheese.

Delish.

The day after the tour I received an email from Iva, the founder of Ljubljanajam, summing up where we’d been and what beers we’d tried, along with an extensive list of insider tips to Ljubljana. (For example: there is a CAT CAFE in town and I missed it. I die.) It was a thoughtful touch that I appreciated – just as I can now appreciate those upperclassmen who informed me that one day, I too would like beer.

You’re right. I do.

Note: This post is entirely my own opinion and not written in affiliation with Ljubljanajam! I found them online, booked the beer walk, and had a good time so I wanted to share my experience. They also offer various food walks and cooking classes for those who, like freshman year Lauren, aren’t quite into beer the way others may be.

So: Ljubljana is Lyooblyeeahna. Looks like it’s missing some vowels, takes some getting used to, but it starts to make sense soon enough.

Ljubljana is the capital of Slovenia, and its widely regarded as one of Europe’s most underrated capitals. It’s pretty, it’s on a river, there’s a castle, there’s craft beer and a dragon bridge – what more could you ask for?

What’s that? Cheese dumplings and apple strudel, you say?

Yeah, that too.

CHEESE DUMPLINGS.

APPLE STRUDEL.

I can vouch that both of these dishes were delicious and can be obtained from the restaurant Julija, which based on my knowledge of Slovenian ‘j’s and Internet memes is probably pronounced like this: “NOMNOMNOM.”

Jared and I didn’t really do anything in Ljubljana, but that was the whole point. We didn’t spend time on our phones, or watching TV, or sitting in the same chair all day, wishing we were somewhere else. We used our legs, our eyes, our ears, our brains: all of those things that make us human, that we don’t fully engage as often as we should. (I would also like to take this time to say that I still do not understand why the 9-5 workday continues to be the standard. But that is a rant for another day.)

When we planned our compact Euro-Thai vacation, there was one question hovering at the back of our minds: “Is this ten days going to be over so fast it doesn’t seem worth it?”

Well, it wasn’t. Ten good days, where you are in control of what you do and when you do it, is worth 30 days of routine. It felt so much longer, and the last two nights in Ljubljana capped it off.

There’s a castle, first of all, and you can walk to it from town. While the castle itself didn’t do much for me, the views did. I understand now why my cat Mittens liked to observe the world from the top of the fridge: no matter what you’re looking at, it’s more captivating when viewed from above.

Also it gives you an inflated sense of power which is probably what motivated Mittens.

The walk to the castle is steep, but the landscape is medicinal.

Also, there be dragons (I feel like that is now the correct grammar when referring to dragons) in Ljubljana. Dragons are the focal point of much of the city’s merchandise, as well as its manhole covers. Of the city’s major bridges, it’s hard to identify which is the most famous, but the dragon bridge is obviously a strong contender.

Three way bridge: Three bridges one after the other all leading to the same place. #efficiency

Butcher’s bridge, home to love locks and several of Jakov Brdar’s eye-capturing sculptures.

A necessary close up of the aforementioned sculptures.

The famous Dragon Bridge of Ljubljana. No tails wagging there.

Legend goes that when a virgin crosses the bridge, the dragon’s tail will twitch. Of course, the predictable punchline is that no one has ever seen it happen. Because obviously, virgins are hard to come by! *cue hilarious laugh track*

There’s an artsy vibe in Ljubljana, and I think that’s what really clinched it for me. Call it hipster if you like, but doing so would be a) lazy and b) selling the place short. Ljubljana, I’d definitely hang out with you again. If I saw you on Tinder, I’d swipe right. Or left. Whichever way is the good one. I’m married and even if I wasn’t, Tinder is too weird for me.

I want this to be my mailbox but it would be real awkward trying to back out of the driveway.

Also awkward if I tried to DIY in the driveway: boots-as-planters.

It may not surprise you to know that there was a distinct odor of marijuana in the air here.

The best destinations are the ones that turn out to be more than you expected, and Ljubljana was that for me. I didn’t get to know it as well as I would have liked, but I can say confidently that we’re now on a first name basis.

As the car wheels crunched along the dirt road, we passed underneath a road bridge. The word ‘Hum’ and a directional arrow were spray painted on the concrete column.

“See? Another sign,” I said, less confident this time.

We drove past three houses and I wondered if that had been Hum. We continued on but agreed that if we went another ten minutes without finding it, we’d turn back.

We passed several more small signs advertising Hum. As we neared our time limit we arrived at the top of a hill. At the end of the road sat a tollbooth where we paid a friendly man 10 kuna (less than $2US) to park. Directly in front of us was the village of Hum.

Welcome to Hum.

Hum owes its tourism trade to whoever it was that declared Hum the world’s smallest town. Numerous online sources claim that it was given this title by the Guinness Book of World Records, but I can’t find any evidence of that. An informative sign in Hum explained that it was considered a town due to the presence of a mayor and administrative facilities; because the population floats between 17 and 21, it is allegedly the world’s smallest.

True or not, they’ve stumbled upon a great way to get people to find it, because no way would you come across it randomly.

People come because of the ‘smallest town’ claim, but they perpetuate its reputation because it’s so darn cute once you get there.

Vista from Hum

Houses of Hum

Gourds were all over Istria. A woman told me they are the current trend in fall decoration.

My first order of business (besides stopping every four steps to document Hum on snapchat) was to get a coffee. Almost immediately an opportunity presented itself, and, as if they had seen me coming, there was a cat in front of the cafe.

Never make me choose between a cat and coffee or my head will explode.

To make it even better, the cat joined me for coffee and we instantly became the best of friends.

The cat may *appear* annoyed but that’s just a bad angle. I swear it was purring.

We nearly had the town to ourselves; only a few other tourists wandered the streets and I never saw the mayor; I assume she or he rules from afar. Passing through the main gates of Hum makes it clear that you’re entering a fortress; the entirety of Hum has remained within the old stone walls since it was built over 1000 years ago. The message at the bottom of the door is written in Glagolitic script, the ancient Croatian alphabet. It welcomes those who are friendly and warns them off if they are not (so I’m told).

Enemies, get out. Friends, get in.

Inside, Hum is a friendly place. Music wafted out of someone’s window, a man sat crafting something I couldn’t identify in an art gallery, and there were at least two shops full of local liqueur and jams. Hum is known for its mistletoe brandy, which I sampled but couldn’t quite bring myself to buy. Instead, we picked up a bottle of cherry brandy and a tiny jar of truffle jam. To this day I have not yet opened either. I’m afraid they’ll collect dust in the pantry while I wait for the perfect reason to consume the goods.

Hum’s High Street.

I still do not understand the sign on the right but I like the bikes. The other sign – free tasting – I was all over.

I love places like this.

We left Hum along the same road by which we came; it took about 15 minutes to reach the highway again. After a few kilometers we came across another sign for Hum, leading me to believe that there are, in fact, multiple roads to the world’s smallest town which would have been handy to know before we backtracked.

It also would have been good to know that there is ‘a significant and exceptional complex commemorating Glagolitic heritage’ linking Hum and the town of Roč. It’s a 3km walk that we probably wouldn’t have done, but as we sped away and I read about it in the brochure I’d picked up, I was sad to have missed it.

Word to the wise: do your research before coming to a town.

Or don’t. Hum was a mystery to me, an interesting stop on a spontaneous road trip that delivered more than I’d expected. You don’t always have to see everything to get the full benefit of a place like Hum; sometimes it’s satisfying enough to simply have proof that it exists.

Goodbye Hum. Keep on keepin’ on.

]]>http://lateralmovements.com/the-roads-to-hum/feed/05514Truffle Pasta in Rovinj, Croatiahttp://lateralmovements.com/truffle-pasta-in-rovinj-croatia/
http://lateralmovements.com/truffle-pasta-in-rovinj-croatia/#commentsFri, 20 Nov 2015 09:40:25 +0000http://www.lateralmovements.com/?p=5422Jared and I drove to Croatia on a whim. Once we decided to go to Piran, Internet research led us to a little spot known as the Istrian peninsula, a place I had been unaware of until now.

If Istria was located in Indiana, everyone would know about it. But because it’s north of Croatia’s sparkling Dalmatian coast and south of Slovenia’s famous Lake Bled, it’s somehow slipped below the radar. My radar, anyway, which admittedly is not always comprehensive.

There are a multitude of towns in Istria that looked worth a visit, but with only a night to spare we went for the big drawcard of Rovinj. Even with the rain (again with the rain) it was beautiful.

These flowers!

It took only an hour to drive from Piran to Rovinj, longer with our stop in Medieval Bale on the way. Bale (also referred to as Valle) is part of an old Roman stronghold, and yes I learned that from Wikipedia. As you can see I have very little to tell you about Bale but it was a cool stop because there is a castle-like structure in its center:

Bale’s illustrious castle.

Now back to Rovinj, which is the star of the show today. We stayed in a nice apartment about 15 minutes’ walk out of town. The lovely owner and I had no common language but she kindly brought me a mocha that had the consistency of petrol. It was here that I walked into the handle of a bathroom cupboard inconveniently located at the height of my thigh. I still carry the bruise as I write this, six weeks later.

The most memorable aspect of Rovinj for me was not something I could hold on to, but a meal I will remember as one of my all-time favorites. It’s not because of what I ate, but its tie-in to the experience of walking around a town that was completely new to me.

In true Galway Bay style, the little red one is my favorite.

How perfect is this??

Jared was sadly still recovering from his stomach bug, so he does not hold the same fond memories of our Rovinj lunch as I do. This is also because he was unable to eat any of it and basically watched me devour my plate of pasta. Watching someone else eat is not really a spectator sport.

When it comes to choosing places to eat, I am famously unable to make up my mind, endlessly searching for the ‘perfect’ restaurant and inevitably failing. This time was different; the Piassa Granda Rovinj appeared at the bottom of a steep cobbled street and I was instantly convinced. “Let’s eat there,” I said.

Part of the scenery that got me so jazzed for Rovinj.

The restaurant was right around the corner from here, but I didn’t manage a photo of it.

It was actually a wine bar that served food, which was even more appropriate. The waitress suggested a glass of local white, coronica malvazija, and I readily agreed. Probably I would have welcomed a glass of chilled petrol, I was so enamoured with my surroundings. Istria is known for its truffles, so my meal was another easy decision: the truffle pasta.

“This is so good,” I moaned, as poor Jared sat opposite me and forced down three bites of a Greek salad.

I’d never had truffles before Istria, but, caught up in the romance of the day I believed that they were the new gold standard of food.

Truffles + pasta. The magic combination.

It was delicious. The meal’s perfection was largely due to the setting of Rovinj; if I went back to the same place and ordered the same thing I doubt it would taste the same.

That’s the magic of travel, though – it adds a secret ingredient to everything.

]]>http://lateralmovements.com/truffle-pasta-in-rovinj-croatia/feed/25422Piran: Yes, Slovenia has a Coastlinehttp://lateralmovements.com/piran-yes-slovenia-has-a-coastline/
http://lateralmovements.com/piran-yes-slovenia-has-a-coastline/#commentsMon, 16 Nov 2015 05:37:08 +0000http://www.lateralmovements.com/?p=5501On a clear day, they say you can see Venice from Piran. I don’t know if that’s true (can’t seem to track down the famous ‘they’) but if you were in Piran I don’t know why you’d waste time trying to get a distant glimpse of Venice when Piran itself is ridiculously good looking.

Piran harbour

Slovenia’s coastline is 46 kilometers long, sandwiched between Italy and Croatia at the top of the Istrian peninsula. Piran is one of the three major towns of Slovenian Istria, the place to where people flock on long weekends and during the summer. If you were a strong swimmer (or say, a dolphin) you could swim directly from Piran to Venice and it would only take you sixty miles.

Again, just save your strength and stay in Piran.

We opted to drive, the trade off being that cars are discouraged in the old town; we were required to leave our car in a parking lot just outside of Piran. Although this sounded annoying at the beginning, it was simple in practice. We arrived at Hotel Piran, unloaded our bags, and a hotel driver followed Jared up to the parking lot and brought him back. We also got a discount ticket from the hotel and paid 7 euro for a day of parking rather than 15.

Hotels like this make me feel fancy. I am generally not that fancy.

This is located directly through the lobby doors. SOLD.

The day we arrived it was gorgeous and sunny; the next day it poured rain as we drove further down the coast. Both days, Piran remained pretty. It has an old city wall – popular for sunset viewings – winding cobbled streets, and a wide town square that is technically an oval. We walked to the church for panoramic views of the town, stopped at a small pub for a beer (Jared) and an aperol spritz (me), then had an early night.

View of Tartini Square (Oval).

Tartini Square from the ground.

Streets of Piran

The spritz, a common drink in these parts. Simple recipe: Aperol, Prosecco, soda water.

We left the next morning and I felt like I hadn’t quite seen enough of Piran, but I suspect that staying for many more days would have resulted in a restlessness. I would rather leave a little bit too soon than too late, and hold fond memories instead of tarnished ones.

Sunsets are the best.

Good night.

Piran is one of those small towns that I’ll probably never return to. I still know virtually nothing about it, though it now holds the esteemed position of my desktop background at work. It’s the kind of place that could comfortably be housed in a snow globe, perfectly compact and eternally beautiful. Slovenia has a surprisingly diverse landscape; I’d never have guessed that the country that gave us snowcapped mountains over Bled also had a charming seaside town hiding on the Adriatic.

Good job, Slovenia. I’m a convert.

]]>http://lateralmovements.com/piran-yes-slovenia-has-a-coastline/feed/35501Predjama Castle with a Side of Triestehttp://lateralmovements.com/predjama-castle-with-a-side-of-trieste/
http://lateralmovements.com/predjama-castle-with-a-side-of-trieste/#commentsSat, 07 Nov 2015 23:26:12 +0000http://www.lateralmovements.com/?p=5497The best thing we did while planning this trip was to rent a car. We booked online and picked it up from the Ljubljana airport, and it allowed us the freedom to play it by ear when it came to where we’d go next.

After Bled, we drove to Piran, loosely intending to stop in one of Slovenia’s famous caves and have lunch in Italy on the way.

Yes. A casual lunch in Italy. This is why I love Europe so much.

The roads were good and easy to navigate, and our final destination was only 2 hours away. We’d have plenty of time, we thought.

Then we came across Predjama Castle and got distracted.

Predjama Castle. Yep, it’s built into the face of a cave.

Okay, we didn’t exactly stumble upon it – we followed the signs about 9km off the main road and there it was, as promised. Its name tells you everything you need to know:

Pred = before

Jama = cave

Captivated by the audio guide.

The castle before the cave, which as you can see is exactly what it is. Entrance was about 11 euro and came with an audio guide. Usually I forgo those things, but Jared and I each wandered from point to point with the guide glued to our ears. It told of the castle’s most famous inhabitant, the knight Erazem, who (allegedly) once convinced his enemies he was magic because he attacked them with cherries when the fruit was decidedly out of season.

His secret was in the castle; a hidden passageway through the cave allowed him to emerge on the other side of a hill kilometers away, to a village where the climate was conducive to cherries.

View from the castle.

Legend says that Erazem was betrayed by one of the castle staff, who passed on a tip that led to Erazem being blown to smithereens by a cannonball while he was on the toilet. Bet he wished he never pulled that trick with the cherries.

In the parking lot we saw a small shop selling blueberry liqueur and $5 Erazem wine, which we bought immediately. RIP Erazem.

After that neither of us was that bothered about the cave, despite its claims that it is the ‘best known cave in the world.’ Plus, we were getting hungry and Italy beckoned.

Trieste is a random pocket of Italy that’s tucked into Slovenia. It’s a massive medieval port city in what resembles a punchbowl; you can see it for miles before you arrive. We knew nothing about it, and came with two goals: pizza and gelato.

We parked at the train station, which was not content with being a multistory car park and also had to be a historical ruin.

The car park-slash-site of impressive Italian architecture.

Without any real direction, we followed a stack of brown signs towards what we hoped was the interesting part of Trieste. In my experience, brown signs usually indicate locations of significance; it had been a brown sign that led us to Predjama Castle. In Trieste, there were about a million brown signs but what really would have helped was an audio guide.

Yes, this will do.

Hunger got the better of us and we still had about half an hour’s drive to Piran, so we ducked into the first restaurant we passed. It happened to be a chain I had never heard of called Fratelli La Bufala. Disappointing when you are hoping for a family run, hole in the wall, best-pizza-of-my-life kind of experience, but we were really hungry.

Fried mozzarella as a starter…before pizza. That makes sense.

Also, it was still pizza in Italy.

Fun fact: Jared got super sick later that night and that whole pizza repeated on him. It wasn’t the food; he came down with what I’d had a few days prior.

I ordered pacherri, which according to the menu is a ‘wide tube-shaped pasta’ with a bounty of vegetables but this is what I got:

If that’s not gnocchi I’ll eat my hat.

At this point we were so full I had to waddle out of the restaurant but I still wanted gelato because when I get an idea in my head it is very hard to convince me otherwise. I chose my go-to combination of stracciatella and amarena – chocolate chip and cherry.

Given the choice between eating or photographing first, I always choose eating.

Being so gluttonous made me feel more American than Italian, but what’s done was done. We climbed back into the car and returned to Slovenia in a matter of minutes, pretty much bursting with culture. Still had no idea what we’d do the next day, but not knowing where we’d go was becoming part of the plan.